


Anything But (Extra)Ordinary

by QueenofBaws (Sisterwives)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterwives/pseuds/QueenofBaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Cecil and Carlos go on a date outside of Night Vale and it’s so frightfully normal. But "normal," of course, is so terribly subjective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But (Extra)Ordinary

Of  _course_  they’d run late. Carlos wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything less, but to be fair, Cecil  _had_  warned him that traffic was going to be a bitch.  
  
The highway was always bumper-to-bumper during rush hour, and the day’s inclement weather had hardly helped—the sinkholes he could handle, but he’d yet to find a brand of windshield wiper that could effectively whisk away disembodied tentacles and the viscous maroon ectoplasm they secreted. He’d long since given up any hope of making it in time for the previews, and  _everyone_  knew that previews were the best part of going to the movies…  
  
They probably would’ve had an earlier start if it hadn’t taken forty minutes to convince Cecil that no,  _no_ , he had no interest in the Desert Bluffs theater, despite their tempting offer of half-price tickets if you brought your own invertebrate.  
  
It would all be worth it, Carlos had thought, white-knuckled behind the wheel, for one halfway normal excursion. Or, barring that, one that wasn’t interrupted by anthropomorphic buzzing or men with shifty eyes behind dark balaclavas.   
  
He’d pulled into the parking lot with little incident, save Cecil inquiring into the suspicious absence of helicopter whirrs in the distance. The ticket and snack lines were similarly uneventful (“And you  _eat_  it?” Cecil had asked, lifting his glasses to inspect a kernel of popcorn as one might a precious stone. Carlos didn’t want to think about the implications of that one for too long), and for once in a little over a year, he had found himself sinking down into an overstuffed chair, with nothing to worry about other than what was adhering his shoes so firmly to the floor.   
  
All in all, he’d thought it had gone quite well. Perhaps a little more low-key than usual, _most certainly_  less confusing than usual, but it had been fun, right? Right? But there had been a  _look_  on Cecil’s face as they made the drive back home (and  _oh_ , it was still so odd when he found himself thinking of Night Vale as his home), reserved and pensive and that had not boded well.  
  
"You didn’t like it," he’d chanced, just before they’d reached the city limits.   
  
At that, Cecil had started from his reverie, looking, for the slightest of moments, like a kicked puppy being mandated a new home by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. “What? Oh, oh  _no_ , Carlos…sweet, perfect Carlos, of course I enjoyed myself. How could I not, when in such  _agreeable_  company?” He’d slid one of his hands to the hand Carlos had been resting on the gear shift, lacing their fingers together affectionately. “What a preposterous thing to worry about!”  
  
Relieved, but not convinced, he’d glanced over at him, thumb rubbing absent circles against the other’s skin “Then why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?”    
  
"Oh, that. I’m uh…" Cecil had trailed off, contemplative once more. "…trying to figure out how to file the end-of-date paperwork. I can’t remember what sort of exemption tonight would qualify for. I mean, really, there wasn’t even  _one_  near-death experience! Or any prolonged moments of existential gurgling, and that’s just…well, it’s going to be complicated.”  
  
With a quiet, resigned laugh (the sort that had become all-too familiar when it came to dealing with the town’s… _quirks_ ), Carlos had rolled his eyes. “I can take care of the end-of-date paperwork.”  
  
Cecil had seemed less confident in his abilities. “I mean it’s really no trouble, and after that audit last time, when you forgot to provide proof of blood sacrifice on line 57b…”  
  
Carlos had taken the opportunity to lean over and press his lips to Cecil’s, effectively reducing the Voice of Night Vale to a small, contented sound as they waited for the sinkhole in the middle of the road to move on, the rhythmic patter of suction cups raining down upon the roof of the car.


End file.
